Wish We Knew The Story, Or Can See More Of...

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As he watched DJ continue to play with her tits he started slowly wanking, but just to be sure of things he asked her again “Are you sure this is ok?”. DJ told me she didn’t even answer the question, but reached down with one hand and pulled the hem of her skirt right up to expose her soaking wet pussy. She told me she was now acting like a porn actress…massaging her tits with one hand, staring at the guy wanking a few feet away, then rubbing her pussy and clit with her other hand…all of the time making sure that she was giving the guy her most horny moves. After what she said seemed only like a minute, the guy stopped and (a very polite chap!) told DJ he was “about to mess the floor”. DJ continued doing what she was doing, and was now on the verge of bringing herself off as well, so she just whispered, “don’t stop, it’s fine”…so he did. She then watched as within a few more strokes he shot a huge load of cum over the kitchen floor in front of himself, and this was enough to bring. "The next morning, while I was getting ready, I would be so hot, knowing or hoping I would be able to fuck with the president. Before getting fully dressed I would tease myself. Not brining myself completely to orgasm, just to the edge. The thought of being with him later would keep me there all morning long. I would carefully pick out my clothes. Along with my sexiest sleeveless, low cut, sweater I would wear a red bra and matching thong. Of course, I would have on a conservative blue skirt and blazer with nude colored thigh highs and heels. My pussy would throb at the thought of how I looked without the suit I wore. Finally, about 10 am I would get a call from the oval office saying that the President would need to see me. When I arrive at the oval office he would be sitting at a small round table and would motion for me to sit across from him. For looks, he would have papers on the table. We would have a bit of small talk, with me bending over slightly so he would be able to see.
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De lunes a viernes, trabajaba por la mañana y pasaba toda la tarde en el hotel, navegando por internet y deambulando entre la cafetería y la recepción buscando algo que me alegrara los días. Me gustaba ese interés que se tomaba por complacerme y trataba siempre de darle algo de conversación extra en nuestros escasos encuentros. Tenga su llave, pagará con tarjeta, espero que haya estado todo a su gusto, un placer volver a verle.. En fin, la conversación no daba para mucho más y yo ya había perdido la esperanza de poder abordarla, pero el último viernes, cuando me despedí de ella y le confirmé que volvería el lunes, que esperaba volver a verla, su contestación me destrozó la esperanza. Le habían cambiado el turno y ya no estaría de tardes, así que cuando yo llegase, estaría su compañero. Aun así, me dijo, se aseguraría de que todo estuviese a mi gusto. No creía que fuera por eso, sino más bien porque los negocios no estaban saliendo tal y como esperaba, pero pasé todo el fin de semana.

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